


The forest moves

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [20]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But really quite tame, Ents, M/M, Reference to hot Vala/Elf sex, Valinor fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunting in Oromë's forests, Celegorm happens upon something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The forest moves

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. For the propmt: "Celegorm/Orome, canonverse. Discussion of ents. (This comes about because every time I hear Treebeard say “hasty” all I think of is Celegorm). (We know almost nothing about Ents in the First Age and the Years of the Trees btw. There’s like one reference to them in the Silmarillion.)"  
> 1\. I therefore wrap myself in this as an excuse for any Unlikely Ent Things I have put into this fic.

Something moved in the undergrowth, and Tyelkormo tensed at once. He waited, listening, feeling the air change its eddies around him, marking the shift in light and shadow. The movement came again, and all the hairs on Tyelkormo’s arms stood up. Whatever was out there was _huge_.

Without waiting to see more, he notched an arrow to his string and drew his bow taut, his breathing quickening in anticipation of attack. He was about to fire the arrow into the shadows when a hand descended on his shoulder. He jumped, and would have loosed his arrow in surprise, had not the person behind him snatched the arrow from the string right as he released it. There was a brief flare of fire between Oromë’s fingers as the arrow’s flight was arrested, and then it dropped to the ground.

“Oromë!” said Tyelkormo hoarsely. “What are you doing – Why did you stop me? There’s something out there – ”

“Ever hasty are you, my wild one,” said Oromë, his deep voice amused, and his hand still heavy on Tyelkormo’s shoulder. “I did not think I had taught you to shoot without knowing at which you aimed.”

“I know enough!” protested Tyelkormo. “It is large, and dark, and – ”

Oromë shrugged. “As am I.”

Tyelkormo flushed and tried to make an argument that didn’t make him sound like a frightened child. “It could be a fell beast, and in the time we delay it could be stalking ever closer… _You_  have taught me to hunt the monsters that might intrude on this wood!”

“If it is a fell beast, then it is stalking very slowly,” Oromë pointed out, and his hand stroked from Tyelkormo’s shoulder to the back of his neck. Tyelkormo felt his heart rate slow and his breathing settle, the usual calm and warmth sweeping through him at Oromë’s touch. “I wonder why it has not disemboweled us already?”

“You are teasing me,” growled Tyelkormo, but despite himself he relaxed into Oromë’s touch, and the Vala hummed, settling himself at Tyelkormo’s back. Tyelkormo leaned back against him as Oromë wound his arms around Tyelkormo’s waist and lowered his head to murmur into Tyelkormo’s ear.

“Wait, my wild one. And watch.”

And so Tyelkormo stilled, for once, and waited, and watched.

In the depths of the forest shadow, the great shape he had made out before moved again, sliding into perceptibility with almost excruciating slowness. As it pulled itself into the dappled light of a clearing, Tyelkormo caught his breath.

It was as though one of the vast trees of Oromë’s forest had been granted mobility – each step was as slow and ponderous as the settling of an oak tree on its roots, so gradual that the crown of branches that might almost have been hair moved with no more speed than an errant breeze might send fluttering through the canopy.

“The tree walks,” breathed Tyelkormo.

“Nay,” murmured Oromë, against his neck. “The Tree Herder walks.”

Tyelkormo’s lips parted as he exhaled. His hands came up to wrap around Oromë’s forearms, and he could feel how the Vala’s skin had roughened in places, so that it was almost like bark. In response to the Tree Herder’s presence, or perhaps, as a mark of respect…

Tyelkormo never quite knew how consciously Oromë shifted his form. Certainly there were times when it was deliberate, when he Changed during the hunt and became vast and terrifying, when his teeth sharpened and his nails lengthened and he was more Wild than the beasts they hunted. Deliberate too were the times Oromë’s body changed in response to Tyelkormo’s, when they lay together in the great tent of skins, and Oromë licked the sweat from Tyelkormo’s skin and laughed to see how Tyelkormo responded to the subtle shifting of his body and he played with form to see what pleased Tyelkormo most. 

But other times, the changes seemed unconscious, automatic. When the pupils of his eyes flickered to match those of the deer dying at his feet, as he knelt to whisper his thanks to the animal; or when the pupils vanished altogether and his amber eyes shot through with red in a moment of rage, like the time a Werecat of the North had leapt for Tyelkormo’s throat…

Tyelkormo shook himself back to the present. Oromë’s arms were still around him, and the Tree Herder was still making its patient way across the clearing.

“Should we greet it?” asked Tyelkormo softly.

“I think not,” said Oromë. “These beings are far more the friends of my sisters than of me, though we may nod in passing. I shall not disturb its business this day.”

Tyelkormo nodded, slowly. “What would have happened, had I shot it?”

Oromë smiled, and pressed a kiss to Tyelkormo’s ear. “You would have annoyed it greatly.”

“And?”

“And an annoyed Shepherd of the Forest would be more than capable of tearing you limb from limb – and you would be surprised at its speed in doing so.”

Tyelkormo laughed, and tipped his head back on Oromë’s shoulder. “I am glad you stopped me, then.”

“I am too. I would not wish to wage a war against my sister’s creatures because they had torn apart my Tyelkormo.”

“You would wage a war for me?” Tyelkormo smiled, reaching up to caress Oromë’s jawline.

Oromë blinked pensively. “No. I was being rhetorical.”

“Ai, you fickle creature!”

“I would be sad, of course…”

Tyelkormo whirled on him, indignation and laughter flickering across his features. “What good are you, if you won’t wage a war for me?” He swiped at Oromë with his bow, and Oromë caught him around the waist and dragged him close.

“I am good at stopping you from being too  _hasty_ ,” Oromë said, and lowered his head to kiss Tyelkormo’s protests from his lips. 


End file.
